


of the rarest sort

by weatheredlaw



Series: look again in your heart [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Attacks, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Role Reversal, Royalty, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyhold plays host to the queen of Nevarra. Varric plans to sit this one out, but he's never been that lucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. josie's got a new pair of shoes

**Author's Note:**

> What is this? What is happening? I don't know!  
> Will be updated pretty quickly, it's basically all done. 
> 
> More self indulgent, canon warping fuckery from yours truly, who actually sorta wrote this for you guys.  
> Because you've been so sweet to me.  
> So consider it my gift. To you.
> 
> I might even throw some really raunchy sex in there. WINK WONK.

_But the queen came to see only me and I saw her._  
_And my life for a while was dismissed_  
_and so repaired._  
\-- Allison Seay, "To See the Queen"

* * *

In the weeks that followed the defeat of Corypheus, Skyhold settled into something of a routine. It was beyond that of practice, lunge, practice, which is what it sounded like to Varric when he dulled all senses but his hearing in the afternoon, and turned his ear to the sparring ring after lunch. _Practice, lunge, practice_ , swords seemed to say. _Fight, sweat, bleed_ \-- footfalls in the mud.

But after, it all seemed so far away. There were still drills, as the Inquisition had become a force of peacekeeping and goodwill. Negotiations had to be conducted, and those who had offered their support in wartime wanted to make sure their investment had not been lost. That the institution they had helped rebuild had separated itself from its predecessor and become as great as it had promised to be. Varric wondered what else they needed, after sewing up the sky and killed an ancient magister -- how much _proof_ did rich people need? 

Leliana had written to him after she'd ascended her sunburst throne, and the words made him smile, when he remembered them. _You are free to return home, as you were at the beginning, though I do believe your sense of duty has not quite been satisfied. As I said then, I'll say now: you are appreciated at Skyhold, always, and Val Royeaux welcomes you any time._ He remembered their meeting in Kirkwall fondly, how she'd sat patiently and listened to his version of Hawke's story, all the time aware that her people lay in the shadows, waiting for the signal he would never see coming. Spymaster to spymaster, it had been one for the books.

Glancing out the window of his room, he wondered if he _could_ go back to Kirkwall just yet. It was his home, and the odds of him staying away forever were slim to none. But...here, something had happened. Something important. Maxwell Trevelyan had lived, _he_ had lived, they had _all_ lived, in spite of trembling odds. 

Miracles had happened here. What was the harm in staying a bit longer?

Besides. He had a book to write.

 

 

 

Varric tended to set up at his little spot by the fireplace early in the morning to work. Deliveries came in and out of those incredible doors every hour, and Trevelyan was often already up and wandering about, greeting new arrivals and old faces, carrying a cup of tea that he would leave in odd spots, forget about, and then discover long after it had gone cold. ("You could _tell me_ where I've left it," he's said with a smile, when he realized Varric had been watching all along.)

This morning, though, he was chasing after Josephine, trying to listen to what she was saying, which was apparently being dictated to him at a pace that only mabari dogs could understand, because he was continuously forcing her to stop, slow down, and start over. 

Maxwell gave up after a few more minutes of it and, exercising what Dorian liked to call his serious business voice, he shouted, " _Ambassador!_ " And she shut right up. "Sorry," he said quickly. "But _please_ , if you're going to be so nervous about whatever is happening, let me share in it? Just a bit? Spell it out. _Slowly_ ," he added.

Josephine's mouth worked a few times like a fish, and Varric chuckled. "Hush, you," she said, tossing a crumpled ball of paper onto his desk. She straightened her back and said, "The queen of Nevarra will be here next week. This _place_ is a _mess._ "

"So you'd like me to clean then, is that it?" Maxwell asked. "I mean, I've never done much of it before, but it couldn't hurt to learn something new--"

" _That is not--_ " Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose. "Andraste preserve me, I just mean we should make sure things are organized. _You_ must look...presentable." Varric saw her eyes flit up to Trevelyan's hair, where it seemed to defy the laws of nature, and travel down to his boots, scuffed around the edges and most certainly trailing mud in every corner of the keep. "I will have something ordered for you."

"I wore these when Alistair was here," he said, and his voice hit a pitch that reminded Varric sharply that he was young, still, and had come from a wealthy family, used to getting the things he wanted by simply saying he wanted them. But Josephine had lived a hard life, and she leveled him with a glare that could kill local fauna. Maxwell swallowed and said quickly, "But I'm sure this...queen of Neva-wherever--"

" _Nevarra._ We have had several dealings with them."

"Right. Just that a dragon can only throw you around so many times before you start to forget--"

" _Thank you_ , Inquisitor." Josephine smiled thinly and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I will let you know when your new clothing arrives." She turned on her heel and snapped her fingers, a servant appearing almost out of nowhere to trail after her and gather some of the things she would need. 

Maxwell looked after her, his teeth bared in an awkward smile before he turned to Varric and practically melted into a puddle in one of the armchairs by the fire. " _Maker._ "

"You shouldn't be so hard on her."

Maxwell frowned. "Was I? Hell, I didn't--" He sighed. "Well. I'll get her something nice. She's done a lot for me lately. Would she like flowers?"

"If I didn't know the, ah, more _intimate_ details of your relationship with Sparkler, I'd say no. But in this case, yes." 

The Inquisitor cringed and scraped his nails over the back of his neck. "Right. Okay. Awkward moment passing...awkward moment passing..." He smiled. "Awkward moment passed! Tell me about this queen, or whoever."

"You mean her royal highness Queen Cassandra Six Million Middle Names Pentaghast?"

"Sure."

Varric shrugged. "Never met her. She used to be the Right Hand of the Divine, back in the day, and a Seeker of Truth. But the Nevarran bloodline is weird. I used to think they drew names out of a hat for whoever got to run the place for the next thirty years, but I guess the dying guys choose. It's been kings for _ages_ , first queen in almost two hundred years, or something like that."

"Wow. That sounds...remarkably unorganized. Should we loan them Josephine?"

"If you didn't have her you'd be dead in a week."

Maxwell nodded. "Or just very poorly dressed."

 

 

 

Over the next few days, the keep was in a frenzy over their expected guest. Varric was not asked to help, so he didn't, choosing mostly to stay out of the way and observe. It would make a good chapter in the book, he thought. They hadn't received a queen -- Alistair had arrived alone and had been, for the most part, just like the rest of them. He ate, he drank, he played Wicked Grace, and he liked to go out and occasionally hack at demons for an afternoon. Maxwell had enjoyed him to pieces. Everyone else had been some stuffy lord or lady from here or there who'd dropped a few hundred sovereigns on weapons and and training and wanted to see how it'd all turned out.

But a queen? From Nevarra? Perish the thought that any one of them should be less than spotless. Josephine asked Bull if he could cover his chest, but had been laughed out of the tavern. (He'd paid for it later when he discovered someone had put an embargo on a shipment of ale he'd ordered and only received penance when he'd gone to Josephine and said sweet, sweet things.) Vivienne had long since disappeared, but she suddenly returned and was doling out vestments and shoes and jewelry where she could, enchanting bits and bobs around the place to make them shinier, from what Varric understood, and trying to alleviate some of Josephine's stress, which was beginning to show.

Varric wondered when they'd stopped being an institute for peacekeeping and started being an opera house. 

"What, is she, like, carried around on a pillow or somethin’'?" Sera asked one evening. The tavern had been scrubbed from top to bottom, but Josephine had explicitly said the _queen of Nevarra_ would not be joining them there. Varric thought she was just relieving her anxiety, and the floor was decidedly less sticky, something Dorian enjoyed. 

"I wonder if it's true that she only eats Nug babies for breakfast?" the mage wondered. Blackwall snorted into his cup. "Just a rumor I heard, when I was back home."

"I heard she lobbed someone's head off for offending her family," Blackwall said, and seemed to be fond of the idea. "That'd be a sight."

"I hear she's got trained wolves," Bull said.

Dorian smiled. "Do you now?"

"Nah, but it'd be something though. Pity she's not a redhead."

"Another thing you heard?"

"She's a Pentaghast," Bull said. "You've seen the paintings. Hair, black like their _souls._ Necromancers."

"That's Nevarra in general though, innit?" Sera wondered. "Whatever. Spindly legged queen. Comin' in here, makin' me get new shoes. What's wrong with my old shoes?"

Cole hung down from the rafter above. "Holes. So many holes. Too many to patch. Can't sew. New ones for the pretty elf. She'll look sweet in blue." Sera raised an eyebrow. "She thinks you're sweet."

Sera blushed so hard she blended in with the sun going down in the window behind her, and Bull roared with laughter.

 

 

 

"Varric, tuck that _in._ Cullen, straighter. Stand _up_ straighter. Thom--" She called him Thom, always Thom, and he blushed and Varric noticed, always noticed. "--smile, please. Dorian, do not _slouch._ " She paused. " _Inquisitor!_ "

"Right here, right here." Maxwell stumbled into place at the head of their group, his hair mashed down as elegantly as possible, feet squeezed into his new boots. He looked, Varric thought, like a prince, really. Quite fitting. Mama Trevelyan would probably cry. "Josie, darling, you looked _exquisite._ " He took a flower from his pocket and put it behind her ear. "I'll take it from here."

"But--"

"You've done _everything_ imaginable. Now, please. Let me do what _I_ do best." He smiled winningly, _boyishly_ \-- because he was a boy, Varric always had to remember, just a boy -- and kissed her hand.

"Andraste preserve me."

"There's a grand gift coming to you soon. I promise. The entire trip will go perfectly. Nothing can go wrong."

"Don't _say_ that," Dorian said. "Every time you say that--"

" _Presenting, her royal highness, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast._ " The gates to the keep swung open grandly, and Varric admired their worthy groan, appreciated their sturdiness, wondered how they felt about the entourage of the queen--

Except.

_Except._

There was no entourage. There was practically no one. 

There was a solitary woman refusing the help of an Inquisition soldier getting down from a carriage. She wore _boots_ , Varric saw, and breeches. She wore light traveling armor with the Nevarran crest across it. There was a sword in a scabbard at her waist. Her hair was short, and crownless. She walked confidently toward them while Dennett led her meager carriage and two horses away to the stables. She was attended only by a young elf, her hair braided elegantly, and both were followed by an older man with dark hair. The man stepped forward, saluted the Inquisitor and stepped aside.

"May I present to you my sister, her royal highness, Cassandra Pentaghast." Maxwell kneeled, but the queen did not seem impressed. Varric kneeled with the rest of them, watching her expression. She wore no jewelry, nothing that indicated she came from a long, respected family line. She was dressed, he thought, like the Seeker of Truth she had once been. 

"Your highness, we are incredibly pleased and proud to host you," Maxwell said, and Maker's balls if he didn't sound like the damn prince he looked like. That noble breeding came through and Josephine looked like she might cry. "I take it your journey went well enough?"

"You have done well securing the roads, if that is what you are asking." She looked around the courtyard. "I see the donations have served their purpose."

"Of course." Maxwell extended an arm, but she declined him gracefully, and they set off to take a tour. "I remember you specifically asked that your funds be used for weapons. I'd love for you to see the improvements we made for our archers...." They trailed off, the queen attendants following close behind. 

"He does _not_ ," Dorian said. "He told me last night he couldn't remember a damn _thing_ she wanted."

"He is impressive though," Josephine said. 

Dorian sighed happily. "Isn't he?"

Varric chuckled and decided his time spent shmoozing royalty was finished. He'd sit out the rest of Queen Cassandra's visit in the comfort of his quarters with a glass of Antivan brandy and some food snitched from the kitchens. He'd seen enough royalty in his lifetime. Missing just one more queen wasn't going to hurt.


	2. between two pentaghasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! Things! Happening!

_Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."_

_"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."_  
\-- Lewis Carroll, _Alice in Wonderland_

* * *

For the first few days, Varric nearly forgot the queen was there. He worked in his rooms, but even when he ventured out of them, he hardly saw her. He caught a glimpse of the back of her head one morning as she disappeared into the war room for a meeting. He spotted her from the battlements taking another tour with Maxwell and Cullen. Snippets of conversation let him know what she was up to.

"--inspecting recruits today. Andraste's _tits_ , I can't hold a sword in front of a _queen_ \--"

"--s'posed to visit Haven today, takin' one of them roads we cleared--"

"--lunch with Madame de Fer, can you _believe_ \--"

Varric acquired the bits of gossip and stored them away. He'd never know her full itinerary, and if Alistair was getting a few pages of the tale dedicated him, then Queen Cassandra would certainly deserve some as well. 

Eventually he decided it was safe enough to leave his own quarters and took up his usual residence in the hall. He needed to respond to a few letters, and Hawke was getting anxious to hear about just how many servant girls the queen ( _"Cassandra Filoberta Hortencia Hooha Penever -- that's her name of course, isn't it?"_ ) had brought with her. Varric was considering whether to lie, and, honestly, just how _much_ he should lie, when a small shadow fell over his desk. He glanced up. It was the elf girl, the one who'd arrived with the queen. 

"Hello."

"Her highness would like to meet with you tomorrow evening," she said plainly. The tone did not invite argument.

But Varric had never claimed to be as clever as he could be _all_ the time.

"I'm busy tomorrow."

A raised eyebrow. Swords drawn. "I'm sure other arrangements can be made. Her highness would like to meet with you tomorrow evening," she repeated.

Varric bit. "What's your name?"

"Lavellan."

"That's your clan name. What's your _name?_ "

"Ellana. Her highness--"

"Would like to meet with me, right. I get it." Varric leaned back in his chair. A clever girl, across the table from. Swords crossed, on the defensive. They stared at one another for an immeasurable length of time. She wouldn't back down, he knew that. Did he have the energy to challenge her? What was the harm in meeting a beautiful queen for one evening? He could embellish things later, tease Daisy with it, fabricate details for Rivaini that she'd spot in a second. 

Or he could just meet her. Find out what she wanted. He'd done worse things. 

"Alright. Should I bring something?"

"She enjoys red wine," Lavellan said, and smiled for the first time.

 

 

 

By the time Varric appeared in the tavern for dinner, half of Skyhold somehow knew Queen Cassandra wanted to meet with him. They cheered when he walked through the door, and by the time he reached the table, he had two mugs in either hand. He sat them down at the table across from Maxwell and Dorian and sighed. "Well, that was quick."

"Dagna overheard on her way through the hall," Dorian explained. "And she told _me_ first, which was really a terrible idea honestly. And then I told _him_ and you know how he is--"

"I am _not_ a gossip," Maxwell said hotly.

"Right," Bull said. "Just like how I'm not Tal Vashoth and Solas didn't _poof_ and Cullen isn't in love with Josephine--"

Cullen _choked._ "I am _not_ \--"

" _Anyway._ " Bull leaned forward. "That elf girl's kind of cute."

"I'll put in a good word." Varric drank from one of the mugs and sighed. 

"What will you wear though?" Maxwell said. "Josephine _has_ to know by now, she'll be in a frenzy about it. I imagine she's already secretly taken your measurements with her bare eyeballs. You'll probably have something all new and fancy delivered in the morning. Not that it's a bad thing," he added. "My new boots are very comfortable."

"And dreadful to take off," Dorian huffed.

Cullen didn't drink in the tavern too often, so his presence was a bit of a gift, in Varric's opinion. He leaned over and smiled. "I did hear something interesting about our guest," he said quietly.

"Oh?"

Cullen nodded. He had a strange talent of being able to speak so delicately no one else could hear him. Varric appreciated it. "Before we even arrived at Skyhold, I thought to ask Leliana how she came about meeting you." He paused to take a drink. " _She_ told me that she'd been visiting with an old friend who was a fan of your books, and particularly enjoyed your _Tale of the Champion._ " He was being cryptic now, and Varric had less and less patience for it, now that he was older. "I'll be frank with you. She said Queen Cassandra likes your stories, and it was she who suggested our spymaster go to you for information on Hawke."

"Really."

"Mmhm." 

"Huh." Varric drained one of his mugs, mulling the thought over. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just assumed you'd be wondering why she wanted to meet you. Perhaps she wants an autograph." Cullen shrugged and tipped back his own drink before setting it down. "I'm off," he said loudly. Dorian and Maxwell made matching protests, but he shook them off as he got up from the table, disappearing out the door.

Bull gave Varric a look that told him, despite Cullen's numerous skills with pitch and tone, he'd heard every word between them. He stayed silent, though, and Varric appreciated the thought. He started on his second drink as Cole and Sera joined them at the table, and by the end of the night, there were several wild, but not improbable, speculations on what Josephine would suggest Varric wear to his dinner with the queen. 

"If there are no _hats_ ," Dorian announced. "I will be _furious._ "

 

 

 

There were no hats delivered to his door in the morning, but Varric was met by an eager servant at sunup with a package in his hands from Val Royeaux. It was a new tunic and breeches, and a set of greases to shine his boots. ( _I would not dare to assume I know what style of shoe you prefer. -J_ ) Varric chuckled and set it to the side, heading down to the hall to grab some fruit and cheese and meet with Sera and Cole for a bit of training. Once a week or so, they met on a hill behind the keep and killed a few hours -- Varric and Sera had constructed several targets and placed them among the trees around Skyhold, while Cole practiced sneaking up on nugs, and then asking Varric if he could keep them.

As they traipsed through melting snow that morning however, they were met by someone who had been strangely absent since the queen arrived.

"Brother," Cole said. "Wary, tired, been a long year, long five years, longer even than that--"

"Cole. New friends, we talked about this." Varric put a hand on the Kid's elbow. "Anthony, isn't it?"

"Master Tethras. A good morning to you." Anthony Pentaghast was older than his sister, but seemed to smile more from what Varric understood. He was dressed plainly, but as unassuming as he was attempting to appear, Varric did not miss the daggers at his belt or the bow and quiver on his back. "I noticed your targets as I was walking this morning. When I asked, I was told you and your friends gathered here every so often. Might I join you?"

Sera puffed up. "How 'bout--"

"We'd love to have you," Varric said.

"I _am_ rusty," Anthony confessed. "It's been some time since I engaged in simple target practice."

"Well, I imagine helping your sister run a country doesn't leave a lot of time for fun."

"It does tend to suck the life out of things," he said dryly.

"Bein' rich and stuff does that," Sera quipped. Anthony blinked, and then laughed. It was a raspy, unused thing, and it seemed almost startled out of him. Varric wondered how long it'd been. He put a soft hand on Sera's shoulder and smiled at her. He said nothing, but there seemed to be something quick that passed through them. Not an understanding -- Sera would be Sera, always and forever -- but it was enough to soften the blow when Anthony proceeded to not only do fairly well, but keep up with all three of them.

He smiled as they walked back to the keep. "I did enjoy that," he said, looking down at the nug in his arms. "My sister will enjoy this less so, I believe."

"No, she _wants_ to go home with you," Cole insisted, and Anthony seemed happy enough. He followed Varric to the tavern and, while Cole and Sera split away, they sat together and ordered drinks and something to eat. 

"You are as talented a marksman as I have heard," Anthony said. The nug sat in his lap, napping. "You are right, though. Cassandra's rule has been plagued with complications. We have family squabbles left and right, and then that _thing_ in the sky." He shook his head. "I am grateful to this Inquisition each and every day. She wanted to come down here herself, you know."

"Did she."

"That would have been a sight, wouldn't it? The queen of Nevarra, fighting demons alongside qunari and dwarves. Not something to be ashamed of," he added quickly. Varric realized his expression must have crunched. "I only mean that you certainly did not have the royalty who so desperately begged for you at your doorstep, offering to clear rogue Templars from the Hinterlands. It was the people of the stone, of war." 

"The Pentaghasts _are_ dragon slayers, aren't they?"

Anthony sighed. "We used to be. Now we are nothing."

"Just the queen, or so I hear."

"Cassandra? She would call herself a thousand things before a Pentaghast, though she has worked hard to restore our family name." 

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Why are you telling me this?"

"So you will know, tonight. She is no ordinary queen."

"I was there when she arrived. I already assumed that."

Anthony laughed. "Well. She has tried desperately to earn the respect of Thedas. You will see, later." He nodded. "You will see." 

 

 

 

Varric spent the hour or two before his arranged meeting with the queen in his room, shining his boots as per Josephine's subtle request. He changed, brushed and tied back his hair, and set out. Or attempted to -- when Varric opened his door, he ran immediately into two problems.

The first was that, in his attempt to avoid all contact with the queen, he'd neglected to find out where they were _keeping_ her. Skyhold was big, and Varric didn't have all night.

The second was Lavellan, who was standing in front of him, blocking his exit.

"Ellana."

"Varric." She inspected her nails. "I'm here to escort you to her majesty's quarters."

"Right--" Lavellan pushed a bottle of wine into his empty, empty hands. "I, uh--"

"We're going to be late," she said, and turned to lead the way.

There was an entire wing of the keep that Varric had never bothered to visit since its renovation. According to the Inquisitor, it was for guests, and Josephine kept it pristine, simply decorated, and off limits to the more destructive residents of Skyhold. Varric followed the girl through the winding halls and up a narrow staircase to the very top floor. The largest room had been cleared for the queen, apparently, and Lavellan stepped back and smiled before knocking.

"Come in."

"Your majesty. Master Varric Tethras is here to see you."

"Thank you, Ellana." The elf dipped her head and shut the door behind her. Varric was a little preoccupied with watching her go, wondering if she was going to perch above the door or if they'd built a little crawlspace under the stairs so she could keep watch. So he didn't see the queen stand, and he wasn't quite prepared for the sight of her when he finally turned.

She was much taller up close.

"I...your highness," he said.

"At a loss for words?" The queen took the bottle of wine from his hands and crossed the room, popping the cork with a twist of her wrist. "Leliana--" She swallowed. "Most Holy told me that you were quite verbose when she met with you." She spared him a glance before handing him a glass of wine. "You told her nearly every single detail."

"That's kind of what a story teller does," Varric said, impressed that his voice was so smooth. "I hear--"

" _Nearly_ every single detail."

Varric almost flinched.

Almost.

"Nightingale and I have moved past that--"

"So you admit to being a liar."

"To pretty much everyone I meet, yes."

The queen considered this for a moment. "To be honest about a proclivity for deception does not _forgive_ deception, Master Tethras."

"So you're a philosopher and a queen. Deadly combination."

"And you too easily change the subject. But I won't dwell on the past. Leliana is not cross, and nor am I. Hawke arrived when she seemed most needed. And your Inquisitor is...charming. And so very _young._ " She sighed and sat in a chair in front of the fire, gesturing for Varric to sit across from her. "Are you hungry? I asked that food be sent--"

"The night is yours, your majesty."

"Of course." She sipped from her glass and they sat in silence until a tray was delivered. Varric wondered if Josephine knew the kitchen was serving the queen of Nevarra stew, but the woman didn't bat an eyelash. She thanked the servant and picked up her bowl and began to eat. "I wondered. Will you return to Kirkwall soon?"

"Hmm? Oh, I can't ever be sure of something like that. I say I'll look into going next month, then the next month comes and goes. There's always work to do somewhere. We're not just good for entertaining royalty, you know."

"Trevelyan tells me there are still open rifts." 

"In the weirdest places, too."

"A dragon's den, he mentioned."

"Ah, you'd have liked that, wouldn't you?"

She flushed. "You have been talking to Anthony."

"He may have mentioned a certain queen's desire to join the Inquisition." 

She set down her bowl. "It was a foolish thought. A young girl's dream. I...miss my days as a Seeker," she admitted. "I imagined myself in my old garb so clearly, traipsing through the Hinterlands. Maker, what could have been. Do you ever wonder?"

"Every damn day."

She smiled. Varric thought it was a lot like her brother's laugh -- startled into existence, unused and out of practice. 

Still, an elegant thing.

"I was so _jealous_ of Leliana. But it would have been impossible. We have enough troubles as it is without something like the Breech, tearing its way into existence." She hook her head. "I apologize. I did not ask you here to complain to you."

"Then why did you ask me here?"

She looked up quickly, eyes glinting in the light of the fire. "I thought...I thought I would be angrier."

"About Hawke."

"Yes. But seeing you...knowing what happened. What _almost_ happened. It was a pity to lose Stroud, but...I am glad for you. That you did not lose her. I..." The queen sighed. "I have read your book. Well, I have read several of your books," she confessed. "I know that Hawke meant a great deal to you. _Means_ a great deal to you."

"She does."

The queen nodded. "Then I am glad for you that she is alive."

"Your majesty--"

"Please," she said. Her voice was tired, but still too young for the time that had passed in front of her, too young for the years spent ruling over a troubled kingdom. She looked at him, and there was that smile again. 

Disarming, he might call it. Varric leaned forward to hear her better. 

"Call me Cassandra."


	3. two lions go into the circle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I got the stomach flu on Wednesday so my sleep schedule is still like, autocorrecting, and I'm only now, at almost 1 in the morning, getting tired. SO HERE'S MORE. But I'm going to bed now, because I still feel gross. Also this part of the story happened on accident! I didn't plan it! So who knows what'll even happen!!

_I have named you queen._  
 _There are taller than you, taller._  
 _There are purer than you, purer._  
 _There are lovelier than you, lovelier._  
 _But you are the queen._  
\-- Pablo Neruda, from _Love Poems_

* * *

The morning after Varric's long night with the queen came too soon for him. He'd been escorted back to his rooms by Ellana at an atrocious hour -- when Josephine found out, she'd wring his neck -- and immediately fallen into bed, newly shined boots and all. Varric tended to rise early, but well after the time he'd normally be out and about, he was still in bed, groggy, overwhelmed by the hours of discussion. But, still. _Still._ How the hours passed so quickly he didn't know. They seemed to talk about everything in some kind of strange, desperate rush. Varric had forgotten to goad her about his books, but it hardly seemed to matter. Eventually, he managed to to change his clothes and meander toward the baths before finally feeling presentable enough to grab something from the kitchens and retreat to his usual spot.

Except there was an elf in his usual spot.

Ellana sat on the edge of the table, crunching on an apple and reading a book. She looked up when Varric approached, legs dangling off the edge. "Good morning, Master Tethras."

"Mmhm."

"Her majesty enjoyed her time with you last night and wondered if you could do it again. Not tonight," she added quickly. "Tonight she'll be entertaining some visiting nobles with your Inquisitor."

"Ah, should be a good time for all."

"So you'll join her? The day after."

"The day after," Varric agreed.

"Good." Ellana hopped off the table, taking another bite of her apple. She paused, before turning back to Varric. "She really did enjoy you," Ellana said quietly, and headed into the courtyard. Varric wondered what she'd say if he told her Bull was interested, but didn't think they really knew one another well enough to start suggesting people they should take to bed, and let it go.

He needed time to think about what she meant.

 

 

 

" _Does_ she eat nug babies?" Dorian asked. "Cole's concerned."

"No," Maxwell said. "They didn't have breakfast together. Just dinner." He looked at Varric. "You have to have breakfast with her, we need to make sure she didn't eat the nug baby Cole gave to her brother." Sighing, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "But it went well, yes? You charmed her pants off? Figuratively, I mean. Josephine might kill you if you seduce the queen of Nevarra."

"Why do we keep saying it like that?" Dorian asked. "Is she scary? Did she scare you?"

"No, it's a respect thing, you have to make sure you're appreciating authority even whilst authority is not present. Or...something. Something _like_ that," Maxwell said. "Cullen explained it."

Varric groaned.

He spent the rest of the day in his rooms, attempting to write and instead only succeeding at taking a nap. He supposed he _should_ have been at the dinner, but the idea of dressing properly and putting on airs and laughing and telling stories for some noble who didn't particularly care seemed exhausting. No one called for him, no one requested his presence, so Varric felt good about pouring himself a glass of whiskey and settling down with a book he'd been meaning to read for some time now. 

But somehow, he thought of her.

 _Thank you_ , was all she'd said when he left that night. Varric had spared a glance out the window and seen the sudden purple of dawn, and he knew he was going to get ten kinds of something from Josephine later. He'd apologized, but Cassandra -- _Call me Cassandra_ \-- she'd thought nothing of it. She'd put a hand on his shoulder as he left, and she smiled. It felt...special, but he wouldn't say something so audacious _out_ loud. Wouldn't dare to think something so rare could be meant only for him, only in that moment. He shook his head, twisted the thought away, and thought of how she'd opened that bottle, bare hands, poured wine like blood into a glass and could have made the room a battlefield -- 

but didn't.

Varric didn't know many queens. He'd met Celene briefly, but Cassandra was nothing like her, not from the outside. Perhaps she could wage a social war from the comforts of her own home, but she had admitted to Varric that Orlais exhausted her, the Game tried her patience, and she enjoyed King Alistair more than she was probably meant to. 

"As in..."

" _No!_ Maker, no, oh don't suggest it ever again--" Varric had laughed, and she had laughed, and more wine was poured.

 

 

 

Again, Ellana came to fetch him, but this time, Varric provided the bottle. He dressed down a bit, deciding to take his chances, and felt more at ease when Ellana presented him. 

"Your majesty, Master--" Ellana paused, glancing into the room. Varric couldn't see beyond her, and she didn't allow him to follow her when she stepped further in. "Your majesty?" Varric heard the sharp, bitter noise of glass breaking on the floor and a sudden intake of breath. " _My lady--_ " Ellana pushed Varric back, nearly shoving him down the stairs. "I'm sorry, but her majesty has taken ill. We--"

"What's wrong, is she--"

"Later, Master Tethras. I apologize--"

"But--"

" _Later!_ " Ellana said firmly. "You will go. And you will speak of this to no one." She turned and slammed the door in his face, leaving Varric alone with his wine. He tried to listen, but silence had enveloped the room. Blocked, confused, and, frankly, _hungry_ , Varric wandered down the stairs with his lonely bottle, stole bread and cheese from the kitchen, and tucked into a corner on the battlements to eat his meager meal. 

"Not with our queen I see." Varric turned and looked up to see Bull walking toward him. "Invitation revoked?"

"Important...queenly business." He waved a hand. "You know how it is."

"Mmhm." Bull extended a hand and Varric passed over the bottle of wine. "The cheese, too, dwarf." They both chuckled and sighed, looking out of the expanse of Skyhold. "It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

"It tends to be. I heard your boys hauled in some good loot on the Coast."

"They did. How's the book coming?"

"Well enough."

Bull nodded. "That's good. That's real good." He took a bite of cheese and said, "You tell that elf about me?"

"She's clever. I think she could figure it out."

"These women, huh? They're too smart for us."

"Yeah," Varric said quietly. "I think they might be."

 

 

 

Cassandra didn't make an appearance that morning as scheduled, so Josephine moved some things around and, for a brief time, things at Skyhold went back to normal. Or as normal as they could get considering they were still housing a queen. Midmorning found Varric with a brief case of writer's block, so he wandered down to the sparring ring to watch some of the newer recruits get the stuffing knocked out of them for a few rounds. The talk around the ring was always bordering on harassment, but the men and women under Cullen's command were talented, even when they were green around the ears, and they knew how to have fun. Varric smiled, lounging against the fence with Blackwall, discussing tactics and bad jokes, when a hush fell over the recruits.

Varric turned, and saw the queen. 

Blackwall took a knee. "Your majesty." He'd had little interaction with her, Varric realized, and he was still in awe. Not that Varric _wasn't_ , but they were on a unique level now with one another. Cassandra nodded, giving Blackwall his moment before permitting him to rise. She turned to the recruits, Anthony and Ellana at her side.

"Who is in charge of your training exercises today?"

"That would be me, your majesty." A young woman stepped forward, kneeling briefly. "Captain Thompson, your majesty."

"Show me what you're working on." Cassandra took up a spot some feet from Varric, meeting his eyes quickly and giving him a brief smile. Thompson ordered a couple recruits through their drills, looking every so often toward Cassandra. She said nothing, only nodding for them to continue, watching the movements carefully. Varric wondered what she was thinking, if she pictured herself committing them to memory, or choreographing the routines herself, teaching sword tricks to these men and women.

"You're impressed then, your highness?" Cullen filled the space between Varric and Cassandra. "I heard you were unwell this morning. Are you feeling better?"

"Much."

"Then I don't suppose it would be too far fetched an idea to have a friendly sparring match?"

Cassandra spared the commander a grin. "Certainly not."

"Perfect. Thompson--" He removed his cape and set it in her arms. "Take this. Mouray, get us two of the practice swords, please." Cullen moved into the ring and addressed the recruits. "You're all in for a treat. Perhaps you are unaware, but her majesty Queen Cassandra used to be the Right Hand of Divine Justinia. Not only that," he said. "But she was once a Seeker of Truth. I do believe, though, your highness, that once a Seeker, always a Seeker. Is that right?"

"It does feel that way." Mouray handed her a practice sword. "Worry not," she said. "You will still have most of your commander when I am through with him." Anthony and Ellana glanced at one another before turning back to their queen. Varric smiled. He turned to say something to Blackwall, instead meeting Josephine, nearly bumping her nose with his. 

" _What_ is happening here?"

Maxwell and Dorian came behind her, glancing into the sparring ring. "Oh this is _fun_ ," Dorian said. " _Bull!_ Come have a laugh at Cullen."

"I'm always laughing at Cullen."

"He took off that _ridiculous_ cat thing."

"I think it's dashing," Maxwell said. "Sock 'em one, your majesty!"

Whatever tension seemed to be resting in Cassandra's shoulders melted away as more people gathered around the ring. Josephine's worry was ebbing away, and she stepped back to watch. Varric didn't blame her unease -- it would make for a poor Ambassador to have your commander toss a visiting queen into the mud, but Varric suspected Cullen had gotten himself in way over his head. He and Cassandra were equal in sword skill, but where he lumbered, she was quick, and as the match started right away there was a marked difference in their styles.

She danced, where Cullen lunged. She swayed here he stepped and swiped. Her arms could tuck in close, but at this angle Cullen looked like a broken doll. Cassandra was grace under pressure, and lithe. Cullen couldn't catch her, but if he was embarrassed, it didn't show. Despite the sweating, the grunting, the near misses -- there was _laughter._

When was the last time Varric had heard Cullen _laugh?_ Briefly, he wondered if Anthony and Ellana thought the same thing about their own lion.

Eventually, Cullen called time, and announced the queen victorious. "Your highness, I am but a humble warrior, at your service."

"I will remember that, Commander." Cassandra passed back the practice sword and hopped nimbly over the fence of the ring. Taking off her gloves, she turned to Varric without pause and said, "Walk with me." It was not a question, he quickly realized, because the moment she said it she was off, and Anthony and Ellana were leaving him plenty of room to catch up. 

"Right." Varric walked fast to match her pace, finally finding even footing between them. People looked as they passed, but went back to their duties. After all that had happened at Skyhold, Varric Tethras keeping company with a queen seemed only natural, he supposed. They eventually wandered up to the battlements. Varric couldn't see her shadows anymore, but he didn't doubt Ellana and Anthony were somewhere. He cleared his throat. "Last night--"

"I am sorry. It was...a momentary lapse of judgement. I thought I was feeling fine, but--"

"Cassandra--"

"There is nothing for you to worry about," she said quickly. "No one should worry about me. I am fine." She nodded. "I am just fine."

"Well, that settles that then. You only need to say it ten more times for it to be true." Cassandra frowned. "Look, you're a queen and I don't actually know you all that well, but I'm gonna overstep my boundaries and just go on ahead and say it. If you're sick--"

"I am not _sick_."

" _Okay._ If you're not feeling completely yourself, hiding it from people isn't really the best way to go about fixing it."

"Yes, because you are so well acquainted with full disclosure."

"See? You're completely missing the point."

" _Ugh!_ " She threw her hands up, turning and pacing the short width of the battlements, elbow resting in her hand as she massaged her temple. "If you _must_ know, I am not sick. It is...they are panics. I...I lose control. For a moment I cannot think. I cannot breathe. All I can think of is what has gone wrong or what _will_ go wrong. Sometimes I think of nothing at all, it is just--" She took a sharp breath. "I can't speak of it, I apologize."

"That's what happened last night?"

"Yes."

Varric swallowed thickly, glancing around. This was...important. This mattered. He realized she'd never told anyone this before.

And that made two of them.

"It feels like you're being crushed, doesn't it?" She looked at him and nodded. "You can't breathe. Whatever it is took every bit of air out of the room. And you do it alone. You breathe when you can and you do all of it _alone._ "

"I..."

"I know," Varric said quietly. "It's...not okay, really. But it is."

"You..."

"Yeah," he said. "Me. A couple other choice folks around Skyhold. You're having a _panic attack_ , Cassandra."

"I know what it's called," she snapped.

"Then say it." She opened her mouth, but was silent. "Come on, don't let it take your voice here. Call it by its name, don't let it control you."

"Panic attack."

Varric put a hand on her arm. "There you go. One step at a time."

Cassandra rested the tips of her fingers over her mouth, closing her eyes. She took a breath. "Can you help me? Can you...teach me to deal with them?"

"I can try. It's...different for everyone."

She nodded. "Of course. But you can."

"I can," he said, squeezing her arm. "And I will."


	4. a practical guide to caring for nugs (and boners)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are being so amazing and beautiful. Like I said, this story is for you. And would you believe it was going to be a one-shot? WOULD YOU? YOU WOULD, probably, because that's sort of my forte.
> 
> And, yes, the nugs are still for you. You know who you are. 
> 
> Oh, and don't worry. FOR THAT CERTAIN SOMEONE WHO LOVES THEIR ANGST -- 
> 
> you'll get it soon.

_"And though I be a woman yet I have as good a courage answerable to my place as ever my father had. I am your anointed Queen."_  
\-- Elizabeth I

* * *

"You're afraid."

"I _cannot_ \--"

"Cassandra, you have to _say_ it."

"I _won't_ \--"

"Say it, or the day is gone, and we've wasted our time."

She took a staggering, angry breath, glared at him beneath those lashes, and said, "I am afraid." 

"Good."

A moan. She fell to one knee, but Varric didn't touch her. She needed to do this. She was the damn queen of Nevarra. She _could_ do this, and she would have to do it without him. There were only two more weeks left of her visit.

They had been working together, but in the days since she'd admitted her secret to him on the battlements, she'd been calm. They'd worked through hypothetical breathing exercises, talked about what it meant, and Varric had tried his best to translate the things that had helped him as a boy into what could help her as queen. It was difficult, but she understood from the start that all worthy things tended to _be_ difficult, and they continued together.

That morning, though, Varric had been asleep, and Ellana had come banging on his door before sunrise. 

"She needs you," she said, and Varric had barely had time to put on shoes as they went dashing across the courtyard and through the guest wing. The worst of it had passed, now. She'd breathed like he'd taught her -- "Breathe _out_ ," he'd told her. "You're forgetting to exhale, you have to let it go." -- but she was pale, and shaking. Ellana had shut the door behind them and now here they were, drawing out her fear like poison. She looked as though she hated him, and Varric thought that, perhaps in the moment, she did. 

"Come on," he said. "You're still _you._ "

"That's _stupid_ ," she bit out, and Varric laughed. "It is not funny."

"It isn't, but you sort of are."

"How _dare_ \--"

"Come on, Seeker--" He stopped. She looked at him. "Ah. I, uh, sorry. I was just--" Cassandra held up a hand, and Varric went quiet. She finally stood on trembling legs, crossing the room to the pitcher of water in the corner and pouring herself a glass. She stood in front of the window, watching the sun slowly creep over the Frostbacks, looking down as signs of life trickled into the courtyard. Varric wondered if he'd committed a sort of royal faux pas, if perhaps the slip of her old title was unwelcomed. He hadn't meant to do it -- frankly, the reason why he had _done_ it was, well, embarrassing. He didn't want to have to explain _that_ particular venture, and honestly -- 

"I have not been called a Seeker in...some time," she said quietly. Cassandra turned and motioned for him to sit in their customary chairs by the fire. "I wanted to be a Templar, did you know?" Varric shook his head. "Anthony was furious, and he did not approve. We never thought...the idea that a Pentaghast could finally ascend the throne was such...an _impossibility_ when I was a girl. I dreamed of it, of course. I wondered what it would be like to be..." She covered her face with her hand and laughed, made that _noise_ that Varric was beginning to find so endearing. "It is embarrassing."

"You can tell me," he said, and though he tried to make it amicable, tried to make it as casual as he could -- it was strangely intimate. She met his gaze and Varric felt his neck crawl with a flush. "If you want to," he said quickly.

Cassandra sighed. "I assumed my brother would take the throne. He would be king and, as a girl, I...I would be--"

"A princess?" Varric offered.

She covered her face with both hands, now. "Maker take you, Varric. _Yes._ It was what I imagined. I was so young--"

"But he chose you."

"He did."

"Do you...do you regret it?"

She sighed. "No. Yes. I can never really be sure. I have done the best I can. I've been successful where others have not. But I have struggled, too. A queen does not often...it is difficult to be a woman at court," she said finally. "And that is all I can truly say on the matter." Varric nodded. She looked better, pale still, but whole now. She smiled at him. "Tell me, though. You called me Seeker."

"We haven't forgotten that?"

She laughed. "No, Varric. We have not."

"It's...a little embarrassing." She tilted her head and he raised his hands in defeat. "Yeah, alright, fair is fair. I...well. You said you've read all my books, but, uh, you know I wrote romance serials once, right?" Her expression didn't change. "I wrote this terrible one, _Swords and Shields_ , never finished it. But last night I couldn't sleep and I thought, damn, wouldn't a Seeker of Truth make an _incredible_ heroine in one of those trashy books? So I...started writing one again. It's not good," he said quickly. "And she isn't based on you. But I was writing, and--"

"I have read it," Cassandra said.

"--the guy keeps calling her _Seeker_ , and I just--" Varric stopped. "You...what?"

" _Swords and Shields._ I have read it." She rose from her chair and went to a little trunk at the end of the bed, unearthing a stack of books bound by a leather strap. She slipped out the last chapter of the serial and handed it to him. It was worn, obviously read several times, some pages marked by a little turned down corner. Varric looked at her.

"This is _smut._ "

"It is."

"I mean, it's incredibly _graphic_ , and _poorly written_ , smut."

"Varric."

" _Cassandra._ "

She sighed and took the book from him. "I have read them all. I had been hoping for another, but..." She shrugged. "I am content with what I have." The tension in her voice told him she was completely _not_ okay with what she had, and it was only royal dignity that kept her from probably begging him for another chapter. 

Varric sighed. 

"I could...write you another one." 

Cassandra paused as she slipped the book back in with the others, setting it carefully in the trunk. Her back was turned to him, but Varric could see the blush on her neck. "Oh?" she said quietly.

"Sure." False bravado could get you everywhere, right? "I've got time."

"I wouldn't ask that you do that for me--" She turned to him, and Varric saw the redness in her cheeks, the strange half-hopeful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She was nervously pressing the wrinkles from her blouse, looking anywhere but right at him. 

"Hey, it's not every day you find out the queen of Nevarra reads your trashy romance novels."

"They are _not_ trashy."

"Seeker," he said, because she'd never said he couldn't. The nickname finally brought her eyes to his own. "I'd be glad to."

 

 

 

Varric had suffered from the nasty habit of making grandiose promises to people for longer than he remembered. It was probably half the reason he had developed a moderately crippling case of anxiety in the first place -- he'd promise and promise and promise, then work himself to death trying to follow through. And he always did, of course. An oath from Varric Tethras was far from an empty one, and if the damn _queen of Nevarra_ wanted him to write, well, _smut_ \-- then he'd write it for her.

It was a pity she hadn't stipulated he do it _without_ acquiring a rather...stiff set of trousers, because that was, right from the start, a bit of a problem. Varric wondered what kind of punishment you received when the _queen of Nevarra_ found out you wrote her smutty romance novels while picturing her naked in your bed. Probably castration, if she didn't _laugh_ at you first. 

He tried writing it in his usual spot, but became suddenly aware that there were _people_ milling about. People who could, at any point, come around his table and see exactly how he felt about whatever he was writing. And how would he explain to them that, no, he was not so conceited to the point that he found his own writing _arousing_ , but that the woman it was intended for was beginning to stir feelings in him that he hadn't felt in literal years? Feelings he thought had gone with Bianca when she'd finally left Skyhold, and Varric, behind? 

So he retreated to his room, something that didn't go unnoticed by their ever watchful Inquisitor who had, among other things, noticed that Varric and Queen Cassandra had been spending a great deal of time together. 

"If you're _depressed_ ," he said, after pushing past Varric and stepping into the room, "then you could just _tell_ me."

"I am not depressed."

"Well, good. Dorian gets that way sometimes. Sad and a little claustrophobic. He's hiking right now actually. I think."

"Dorian doesn't _hike._ "

"He's _somewhere_ ," Maxwell said, waving a hand. "What are you working on in here anyway? Is it our book?"

"It's... _a_ book."

The Inquisitor blinked. "That. Was _incredibly_ vague. Vague enough that I'm intrigued. What's keeping you all sequestered, hmm?" He moved toward the desk, but Varric stepped in front of him. "Oh, it's a _secret._ You know I love secrets--"

"I know you love _telling_ secrets."

"I would _never._ " Varric raised an eyebrow. "Yes, alright, I would _sometimes._ But you can trust me today. I think."

"Not comforting."

Maxwell sighed. "Yes, _fine._ Keep your secrets. I'll just go bother Cullen until Dorian gets back." He put a hand on Varric's shoulder, his expression turned sincere. "But if something is... _bothering_ you, Varric. You know you can always tell me. Don't you?"

Varric looked up at him. So young, always, those eyes. Barely twenty, Varric had assumed that first day they'd met. And funny and brash and brave from the start. He smiled. "I do," he said. "Thank you."

Maxwell grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Right! Well, I'll see you at dinner, maybe, if you're feeling up to it." He turned and headed out the door, shutting it behind him. Varric sighed and collapsed into his desk chair.

The kindness of others could be so _exhausting_ sometimes.

 

 

 

Carefully, Varric worked through a rough draft of the chapter, editing and re-editing, combing over it with a careful eye. He'd normally send it off to be proofread, but if his publisher came into her office one morning and found the newest chapter of a pretty much defunct series sitting on her desk, she'd probably storm the damn keep, and Varric didn't really feel like seeing her, perhaps ever again. Letters were just fine. So he worked through the story alone, polishing and polishing, occasionally collapsing into his bed to palm at his burgeoning erection like a teenager, rutting into his hand until he came messily and had to clean himself up. He hadn't had the thought in years, but it fell on him like a brick one morning -- 

he needed to get laid.

Of course, bedding the woman he thought of every time he started writing was completely out of the question. He wasn't so desperate anymore that he'd risk his life and limb for a dalliance with Bianca, and there was no one else at Skyhold that seemed to hold a candle to his fantasies.

So he suffered, like he always had, and found bits of random relief when he could. It didn't help that he still met with Cassandra a few times a week, not just to help her with her panic attacks, but to simply talk. Now that he knew of her great love for _Swords and Shields_ , she had questions about it that he'd never had to answer, and her passion for the series was, truly, unparalleled. 

It did _not_ help his problem, even the slightest.

When the book was finally done some days after the initial request, Varric bound it carefully by hand with the meager supplies he'd carried with him, and headed to the guest wing. However, it wasn't Ellana, or even Cassandra, that met him at the door, but Anthony. 

Anthony Pentaghast, with a _nug_ in his arms.

"You're still carrying that thing around?"

The elder Pentaghast laughed and stepped aside, closing the door behind him. "That boy, Cole. He's an incredibly inquisitive young man, I quite enjoy him. He's been teaching me about them. We don't have too many in Nevarra."

"Ferelden's lousy with them."

"I've noticed." Anthony's eyes fell on the book under his arm. "Is that what I think it is?"

Varric stammered. He did not often do so. "She--"

"Cassandra told me. She's been a fan for ages, she'll be glad to have it. But she's currently at dinner, I'm afraid. I had to excuse myself. I can only take so many _thrilling_ tales of nobles pretending to have felled dragons." He set the nug in a little bed under the window and reached for a bottle of wine. "Unlike my sister, I am not obligated to listen."

"I'm sure she appreciates that."

"Oh, I'll pay for it later, I'm sure." He smiled as he passed Varric a glass and gestured for him to sit. "I understand you've been assisting my sister with a few other things as well."

Why did that sound so suggestive, why was Varric even _thinking_ that? "I've got some experience." Maker, it was getting worse.

"That's good. She's needed help for some time, but she's...stubborn. Which I'm sure is no surprise to you." He took a sip. "She's been very happy here, the last week or so. It's been a good thing to see. We came to get away from a few things, you know, not just to inspect requisitions."

"I figured as much."

"It will be a shame when we have to return home," Anthony said quietly. "I will miss this feeling."

The two sat in silence for some time, drinking wine and refilling their glasses. Anthony made for good company, and Varric felt at peace for the first time in a few days. Eventually, they heard the signs of Cassandra and Ellana coming up the stairs, and they stood together as the two came into the room. 

"I will never understand these men and their desire to impress me with _dragon_ stories. I detest dragons." Cassandra sighed and looked between the two of them. "Oh, Varric." Her expression seemed to brighten considerably and she smiled. "I did not know you were coming, I--"

"He brought you a gift, sister." Anthony smiled and set his glass down, going to the window and lifting the little nug. "Come, Ellana. I'm starved."

"Of course, sir." Lavellan gave a bow to both Varric and Cassandra and shut the door behind her. 

Cassandra sighed, turning to Varric and smiling. "I'm happy to see you. It's a pity you were not at dinner, it was...amusing." She took her brother's abandoned wine glass and filled it, drinking deeply before setting it back down. "Are you well? You look...strange."

"Hmm? Oh, just..." He glanced around, finding the book and thrusting it out to her. "Uh, here. For you."

" _Oh._ Oh, so quickly. I...did not imagine..." She took it carefully, running her hands over the hastily made cover. "You bound it."

"I've got supplies. It didn't take long--"

"No, it's...it's wonderful. I...thank you."

"Thank me after you read it, I'm not sure--"

She pressed it carefully to her chest. "I am sure it is perfect, Varric."

Varric swallowed. It wasn't much, just a few words put together and sort of said in his general direction. But her smile, her voice -- it unnerved him, just a bit. Unsettled something in his chest that seemed to free itself with an audible sigh, a rush of warm air and perfume.

She called it _perfect._ And Varric's heart skipped a beat.


	5. match maker, match maker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so sure I was gonna drop the smut here, but instead I dropped in another weird background ship that doesn't make any sense out of context. WHATEVER I'M AN ADULT. I did scribble some notes today while the kidlets were sleeping at work. Eventually something will happen. Probably. Thank you again for your continued love and affection, it literally means everything, I would be bereft without it.

_"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever."_  
\-- Alfred Lord Tennyson

* * *

Three days after Varric delivered the book to Cassandra, Divine Victoria descended upon Skyhold.

Josephine was _furious._

If the Divine had been anyone else, she might have been able to grin and bear it, but because Josephine and Leliana had a history, their poor, poor Nightingale was spared absolutely none of the worn down ambassador's wrath, which she released full force, in the courtyard, in front of four clerics, a queen, and most of Skyhold.

It would have made for an excellent chapter of his book, if he wasn't so sure Josephine would _filet_ him for it.

"You could have _written!_ You could have sent word, you could have _told someone--_ "

"It was as much a surprise to me as it was to you, Josie--"

" _Bullshit!_ " Varric had never heard Josephine swear, not once, and she stormed away from the Most Holy and back into the keep, where she remained locked in her office for several hours, until Cullen could convince her to come back out. She apologized profusely, wept openly, and eventually, dinner was served. Cassandra and Leliana sat together like old friends, their heads tipped together murmuring secrets. On occasion, Leliana's eyes found Varric, and at one point she raised her glass to him. Dorian noticed.

"You've won favor with the _Divine._ What did you do, tell me your secrets."

"Absolutely not."

"Fair enough." 

When dinner was through, Maxwell suddenly appeared with a shoddy quartet he had apparently assembled from thin air. Varric spotted Maryden, of course, and Ritts, that spy. A couple recruits rounded out the mix, each playing some kind of instrument they had clearly dragged with them on the long march through the Frostbacks to Skyhold, and had been aching to play. The music wobbled at the start, but soon it flowed like wine, echoing through the great hall. "I told you," Maxwell said to Josephine, extending his hand. "A gift was coming." 

Josephine looked like she could burst, and she certainly cried as she and the Inquisitor began to waltz. Cullen and Leliana joined them, and soon, most of the hall was filled with chatter again as the music played on, and the Inquisition danced without motive for the first time. Varric sat at a table along the back wall, drinking from his goblet and humming to the music, suddenly aware that someone had taken up the seat next to him.

"I enjoyed the book," Cassandra said quietly, never taking her eyes off the dancers. Varric spared her a quick look before his gaze fell on the Inquisitor and Josephine, who waltzed happily through the crowd. 

"Was it worth the seven year cliffhanger?"

"Certainly. The rescue," she said. "It was...magnificent." Varric snorted into his wine, finally drawing her gaze. "You really do think so little of your own work, don't you?"

"Honestly, Seeker, I wrote that story as a gag. For a friend."

"Oh." Her face fell. He hated that he'd been the one to make that happen.

"But it was in earnest," he said quickly. " _Inspired_ by friends, really." He wasn't sure she believed him, so he turned to her and, before he could stop himself said, "We should dance."

Cassandra opened her mouth, jaw working, mind turning over and over again in some forlorn attempt to respond.

"Come on," he said, offering his hand. "I promise you won't notice the height difference as much as you think you will." 

At that, she laughed, and finally stood, taking the hand reaching out to her. It was warm in his, and soft, with the right kind of ridges from years of sword practice. He led her toward the edge of the crowd, where no one seemed too terribly surprised to find them together. Again, after everything that had happened, Varric supposed it wasn't much of anything. Some rogue, dancing with a queen. Stranger things had occurred, and stranger would even still. She was clearly trained to be able to do this, and Varric had some practice, growing up with Bartrand and attending dinners hosted by the guild. They were matched in their unease, laughing together when she stepped on the toe of his boot, or he gripped her hand the wrong way.

"You know," he said. "I'm kind of royalty myself."

"I am dying to hear this story," she said, deadpan.

"Well sure. Merchant prince and all that."

"Of course. It is very much the same." They danced for some time in silence, enjoying the shift in music. Maxwell changed partners, allowing Cullen to cut in with Josephine while he harangued Dorian into a wide stepping waltz that cleared a great swath of people from their path. Bull and Leliana spoke quietly in the corner.

"Did you like the part after she escapes?" Varric asked suddenly. He desperately needed to know what she thought, after everything he went through, after the near constant ache he'd been feeling.

"Hmm?" Cassandra seemed distracted, and suddenly returned to him. "Oh." A flush crawled over her cheeks. "I did. Very much."

Varric almost dropped his head right between her breasts in relief, but had the good sense to keep his eyes trained on her chin instead. 

"Good," he said, when he finally trusted himself enough to speak. "That's good."

 

 

 

The morning after the impromptu ball found most of Skyhold's residents staring bleary-eyed into their breakfast, attempting to reconcile the dream of the night before with the reality of the day that had come. Varric felt very cheerful, considering the amount of ale he'd had, and found himself answering a summons from the Divine just after the morning training exercises had been completed, taking the winding staircase up to what had once been Leliana's impromptu office. She was sending a crow out the window when she finally came into view. "Good morning, Varric."

"Most Holy."

She turned to him with a smile. "Please, none of that."

Varric settled into the chair across from her. "You're growing your hair out."

"Am I?" Leliana brushed the ends of it with her fingers. "I hardly notice these things anymore. I suppose I'll get around to it once I settle in more firmly." She passed him a fresh cup of tea. "You take it without milk, if I remember." Varric accepted the cup and took a respectful sip. "You are enjoying our visiting queen, then?"

"Ah."

"I mean nothing by it."

"Liar."

She laughed. "Well, Cassandra is a dear friend. We were with Justinia for many years before she left us. The woman that replaced her never did quite hold the same place in my heart." Leliana sighed. "She seems happy here. Anthony wrote that she was distressed. Nevarra has seen better days."

"It'll see them again. She seems to know what she's doing."

"She's quite fond of you."

Varric paused before taking a sip. "Why does this feel like more than a chat between rogues?"

Leliana shrugged. "I'm only looking out for the well being of two good friends."

"Friends."

"Of course. If you think Cassandra is incapable of trampling on your heart out of nobility, you are mistaken." She paused. "But I am well aware of the damage you could cause."

Varric winced. "Ouch."

"Will you act on your feelings?"

 _Feelings?_ "Hang on." He set down his cup. "What are you _asking_ me, exactly?"

"Varric. I hardly invited you here so the two of us could play coy. I know what you did for her. I know what you've been _doing_ for her. If you're not aware of what you're feelings are for Cassandra, then let me be the first to tell you. It's clear as day."

"To you, maybe."

"And to her. She thinks highly of you. She respects your work, she appreciates the time you spend with her. She _enjoys_ you, Varric. The last time Cassandra enjoyed something, truly, we were almost ten years younger. This kind of joy...it does not happen for people like us very often. Surely you must understand that."

Varric looked out the window. Another crow was making its way back, carrying a message. It took a dip, circling around for the balcony of the Inquisitor's room. 

"Does she...what else has she told you?"

Leliana leaned back in her chair. "If you'd like to know the depth of her majesty's feelings for you, it would probably be best if you asked her yourself."

Varric sighed, wondering how rude it would be to ask the Divine if she had anything stronger than tea. "Yeah," he said. "I thought that's what you'd say."

 

 

 

The Divine stayed for another evening, and then departed. The visit was brief, creating another flurry of activity that suddenly died down in her wake. It made the preparations for Queen Cassandra look tame in comparison, and Varric could tell the staff and servants were glad to have the Most Holy out of their hair. Cullen strong armed Josephine into abandoning her position as ambassador for the remainder of the week, but wouldn't tell her who had taken over planning outings and events for the queen.

It was Maxwell, of course. Maxwell Trevelyan who, at last count, had planned a total of one war against an ancient magister, and a ball. Their own Inquisitor, who apparently had decided that he was going to relieve Josephine of every last duty remaining until Cassandra left.

"We're going _hunting_ ," he said to Varric that first morning, and Dorian _spit._

"You're _joking._ "

"I am not. Father took us hunting whenever he could. My sisters always enjoyed it, why wouldn't the queen?" He stuffed a particularly large piece of sausage into his mouth and the rest of his words became inaudible until he swallowed and said, "So you're all going."

"I will not."

" _Dorian._ "

"I love you. Infinitely, and without equal. But I will not go _hunting_ with you in the _wilderness._ Like some sort of _savage._ " He punctuated this point by wiping the corner of his mouth, delicately, with a napkin. "I suppose you expect me to do it without magic?"

"Arrows only. Daggers I suppose, too."

Sera cackled. " _Oh_ that'll be a sight. Fancy-pants 'Vint with his fancy-pants in a twist. Cock an arrow. Get it? 'Cause you _like_ \--"

" _Right._ " Maxwell stood quickly. "It's settled then. I'll go sort it out with the queen's people. Wherever they are." He turned to go, but seemed to think better of it and went around the table to give Dorian a proper kiss. "I rather like savages you know." He grinned and went off in search of Anthony and Ellana. 

Dorian pouted, flicking a rather large pomegranate seed at Varric when he began to chuckle.

Varric personally thought it was a grand idea, and he headed back to his rooms to change and make sure he had enough bolts for Bianca before they set out. He was interrupted by a familiar knock on his door, and he let Ellana into the room without question, continuing to prepare. "Did you need something?" he said over his shoulder.

She was silent. Then, quietly: "No. Not particularly."

It was out of character for her, the swift, steely elf he'd come to be rather fond of, who always had a dry wit on hand to match Varric's own. He set down the hunting knife he was preparing to sharpen and turned to to face her. She sighed.

"I wanted to...ask you something."

"Alright."

"You're rather good with words." Varric nodded. "I have something I'd like to say. To someone. But the words don't...I have never been in love. Not before this." Her pale cheeks grew pink and she averted her gaze. "I apologize, Master Tethras. It was a fool's errand to come here." She dipped her head. "Please, forgive me." Ellana turned to go, but Varric reached out and gently held her back.

"What is it, exactly, that you'd like to tell him?"

Her eyes grew wider, just for a moment. "Do you--"

"I can guess."

"Please don't. _Please._ " Her voice seemed to catch, and Varric let her settle on the end of his bed. "He will never return my feelings."

"You don't know that."

"Don't I, though? The queen was so good to take me in. She saw that I was different than her other servants, did she tell you that?" Varric shook his head. "I always spoke to her, brought her things. I could see she needed someone. She missed the company of other women. And the other servants were afraid of her, but I knew better. She has taken me seriously from the start, but I doubt he ever will."

"Anthony trusts you." Her gaze was sharp, shooting daggers, but Varric didn't flinch. "Don't mistake me for a fool, Ellana. And don't assume you know his heart."

"What would you have me say?"

"The simple things. That you care for him, maybe even love him."

She exhaled, and in her breath there were stars, shining for someone else. "I do. Creators, I _do._ "

"Don't keep it a secret. Secrets don't make good lovers. They make wars and death. I've been around along time. I've seen what they do."

"And if--"

"Don't think on it."

"But _if._ "

Varric reached out and took her hand. "Then he's a damn fool. You're beautiful, and if a queen can see your worth, then her brother should, too."

Ellana squeezed his hand, giving him a weak smile. "Thank you, Varric." She stood and turned to go, pausing before she opened the door. "I think...you should take your own advice," she said quietly. "Perhaps it isn't love, but I know there is someone who cares for you. And I would bet every sovereign I have you're just too much of a coward to admit you feel the same." She shrugged. "But it's just one woman's opinion." She smiled and disappeared out the door.

 _No_ , Varric thought bitterly, grabbing at his boots. Leliana's words rattled in his head. _It certainly is not._


	6. queen in the streets...still a queen in the sheets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEX
> 
> ur welcome

Varric knew his time with Cassandra would be gone before he realized it, and though she still had an entire week left of her visit, the advice he'd been given kept repeating itself over and over again in his mind -- _tell her, be honest with her, trust her._ He almost laughed out loud every time he thought of it. The image of himself confessing his feelings to her was a hollow one. How could he do that to her? To himself? How could he tell a woman he hardly knew, a _queen_ no less, that he was falling for her? What would it do for him? What could it ever bring them? If there was anything he'd learned from his parents, it was how to suffer in silence, and suffer gladly.

But if there were any two people he didn't want to be like...

Varric groaned. He'd been tossing and turning all night, imagining himself walking to her room, telling her everything. Her reaction he couldn't conjure. Ellana and Leliana seemed to think she would welcome the sentiment, but Varric could only picture rejection. He could only picture a week of awkward glances, thinking about what could have been, all of it bookended with relief when she rode her carriage away from Skyhold. 

If only...no. _No,_ he wouldn't do this. He couldn't do this.

Could he?

With a final, resigned sigh, Varric kicked off his blankets and groped in the dark for his breeches and boots. It was late, far too late for any sort of romantic overtures or admissions, but he quickly formulated a plan. He'd simply walk toward the guest wing. If he saw a light, he would _consider_ the option of talking with her. Possibly. Quickly, he dressed and headed out into the night. The courtyard was empty, save for a few soldiers on night rotation. They nodded to him as they passed and, with a heart too heavy for any one man to bear, Varric glanced up toward the windows of the guest wing. He spotted hers, and he spotted the light, and movement, immediately. Why was she awake? It was past midnight, certainly Maxwell had more things line up for her tomorrow. Under Josephine's tutelage, he'd surpass even their ambassador in grace and event planning. They could win the next war with a dinner party.

Steeling himself, Varric prepared a litany of excuses he would have to give Ellana or Anthony, should he run into them on his way up the stairs. But neither were anywhere to be found as he opened the heavy door leading up to Cassandra's quarters. If Ellana had taken Varric's advice, he didn't know. She'd been quiet after they spoke, and when he saw them together, they remained far apart. Varric didn't want to be wrong, didn't want Ellana's feelings to go unanswered. But for now, he worried about his own romantic confessions, and was startled to find that the words he wanted to say would not come. 

For once, he was, truly, left utterly speechless. How would he manage, once at the top of the stairs? The door was growing closer, he could hear gentle movements beyond it, and suddenly his clenched fist was being raised to the wood, and he knocked for her, three times. 

"A moment, please." Something shifted, fell, and she swore. It brought a smile to Varric's face, and he must have looked completely ridiculous standing there, haphazardly dressed and waiting with his heart in his hands. "Varric."

"Your majesty." She rolled her eyes and stepped aside to let him in. "You're still up."

"As are you." Cassandra ran a hand through her hair. "I have had trouble sleeping. It is a minor issue, being away from my own home for so long. My private rooms are one of my few joys these days." She sighed and sat in her chair. "Is there something you needed? Not," she added, "that I am unhappy to see you."

"Likewise." He sat across from her. "I..." Again. Nothing came to mind. A waste of time, he'd have to write Leliana and politely tell her that she was a fool. A fool to believe that Varric had the wherewithal to admit when he'd been bested by sentiment. "Are you well?"

"I beg your pardon?" Cassandra tipped her head to the side, confused. "Are _you?_ It's nearly one, what ever kind of question is that?"

"It's...an easy one to ask, given the things on my mind." _And my heart._

"Varric." Cassandra leaned forward, her voice soft, the delicate tendrils of it reaching out to pry the feelings from Varric's mouth. "Is there something you...needed to tell me?" He nodded. "Then you should tell me."

"It's not so easy."

"Can you write it?"

"I feel like that would be counterintuitive."

She nodded, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Then: "Can you...show me?" 

"Show you."

"Yes."

" _Show_ you."

She huffed. "Please do not _repeat_ yourself, it is hardly becoming of a man such as -- _mmph!_ " 

Varric suspected there were, somewhere, written laws about throwing yourself bodily at the queen, but in the moment he couldn't bring himself to care. He had tried to piece together what he wanted to say using his words, the only weapon he had at his disposal during such times as these. And if he had written it down, he knew it would have gone straight into the flames.

Perhaps, then, the reason he couldn't voice his feelings was because his mouth was so preoccupied in doing what it truly wanted.

_To kiss._

At first he thought he'd made a mistake. She remained, frozen, in her chair while Varric had surged to his feet, bringing his hands up to cup her face. His fingers brushed the ends of her hair, wanted to desperately travel up and trace the twisted lines of her braid, the shell of her ear. But he remained where he was until she would either stab him clean through, or return his affection. 

She _moaned._ And Varric found that he was completely lost.

Her mouth opened against his, bloomed and let his tongue slip through, grazing her teeth, pressing in. Varric felt her arms snake around his neck, drawing him in. He dared to move his hands, placed them where he wanted, and was awarded with a shudder that he felt through his own body. " _Cassandra--_ "

"It has been so _long--_ "

"I don't care."

"You will, when I cannot--"

"I want you. I have, I do, no matter what." He drew back, keeping her gaze locked on his. "I don't know how to treat you, if I should--"

"I am a _woman_ still, Varric." Her eyes were lidded, pupils blown in arousal, and something about the way her tongue darted out against her lips, as if to taste where he'd been -- it made him _ache._ "I would like you to treat me like one."

 

 

 

Cassandra relaxed at the head of the bed, looking down as Varric stripped out of his tunic. Her clothes were so soft under his hands, he wanted to run the fabric over his fingers for hours while he kissed her. But she was eager, and told him as much. Varric pushed the hem of her blouse over her stomach, dipping his head to kiss around her belly button, over her sides. He drew his tongue up until his forehead rested in the valley of her breasts, and finally drew the shirt over her head. 

"Beautiful."

"I am glad it pleases you."

"It does more than that."

She sighed, reaching out to comb her fingers through his hair. "I should certainly hope so."

With a chuckle, Varric bent his head again to explore the curves of her breasts, teeth gently grazing a nipple, grinning against her when she yelped, then moaned when he did it again. His other hand trailed down her side, brushing the waistband of her loose breeches, slowly slipping under and around. She made a little noise when he squeezed her ass, and Varric knew he could get used to her almost naive surprise at being treated like she was desirable. He wondered how long it had really been. 

Eventually she pressed her fingers under his chin, drawing his gaze to her own. Her mouth was open in a pant, and the words she seemed to manage were desperate. "I want...more. Everything. Varric, _please._ " Cassandra pulled him to her and kissed him, all need and no hesitance. "Do not make me wait."

"We don't really have that much time."

"I know." Her voice was husky, aroused, went straight to his cock. "That is why I need you."

Varric groaned, squeezing his eyes shut before he nodded and yanked the fabric still covering her legs down and off. He fumbled with the laces of his own pants, scowling when she laughed. "I didn't actually think--"

"Don't finish that sentence." She helped him get the pants off, watching as he kicked one of his boots halfway across the room. "I don't believe you."

"You shouldn't, honestly." Naked, he settled between her legs, trailing his hand over one of her thighs and grinning. "But I won't lie to you. Not tonight." His brushed his fingers along her slit, watching her shiver. "Not ever." With a sigh, he dipped two fingers into her, thrusting slowly, watching her unfold for him. She was more elegant than any dancer, more trained in this moment than any soldier he'd ever met. The muscles of her body fought him for only a second, before they relaxed under his touch. He brought his thumb to the swollen knot of flesh, circled it as he watched. Varric desperately wanted to taste her, but he would manage that later, perhaps, after he'd given her what she wanted.

"Varric--"

"I know, _easy,_ Princess." She looked at him sharply. "Okay, not a preferred nickname."

"My _own_ name will do just fine." Maker, how she could _command_ in a moment like this -- he wanted to study her, be everything _to_ her, if she'd only tell him what to do, how to do it, how he could make her scream -- " _Varric._ "

"Yes, ma'am." Carefully, he wrapped his hand around his erection, painfully hard and leaking against his stomach. Oh, but he'd wanted her, wanted her for so long. Whatever fantasies he had, they dissipated right here, in the raw actuality of it all. She was ready, willing, and open to him, and he gave a slow moan as he pushed into her, felt her tighten again and saw a flicker of pain cross her face.

"It's _fine,_ " she said quickly, ignoring his protests. "Just...just _move--_ " She moaned as he thrust, slow and steady, letting her get used to the feel of him. "More." Varric nodded, picked up his pace and thrust a little harder. She didn't protest, and he didn't know what else to do. His rhythm stuttered and his thrust, _hard_ , and she cried out. " _Again--_ "

"You feel--"

"Yes, _yes--_ "

" _Shit,_ Cassandra--" 

He felt wild, on fire, _alive._ His skin was so hot, she was so warm under him, hands gripping his arms, finding their way into his hair. He tipped his forehead down, against her shoulder, and she wrapped her legs around him as he took her, took what he wanted, gave her what she needed, gave her more and more and everything she begged for until -- 

Varric came, and it had been so long, it almost hurt. His muscles tightened and he choked on it, cried out, made the most shameful noise he had ever heard come from his own mouth. But Cassandra didn't care. She was still rocking against him, and Varric could tell she was close, had not meant to please himself first, really -- 

"Come," he said, and her muscles squeezed his cock inside her, but he couldn't care. "Come, please, I want to see, I _need--_ "

"Yes, _Varric--_ " Cassandra arched her back, gripping the sheet in one hand, the headboard in the other as her body claimed its release. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, punctuated by one broken cry as she collapsed beneath him, chest heaving.

Varric finally pulled away from her, but he couldn't move. He kept his head against her shoulder, panting, tongue nearly hanging from his mouth, finally robbed of all control. 

For a while, they lay there, breathing, holding, wondering who would be the first to move. Varric figured it should be him -- it was bad form to trap a queen under your naked, sweating torso. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, fitting perfectly against her own. "I think I died."

"If you did, then we are both dead and there will be a terrible scandal."

"Did we just do something scandalous?"

"A bit. Nothing no one has done before." She rolled over to face him, reaching out to smooth the hair from his forehead. "You are incredible."

"For an old guy."

"You are not so old."

"Old enough." He grinned and pressed himself up to kiss her. For a moment, he was still trapped in this feeling, but reality rushed back to him like cold air, and he sighed. "I should go, shouldn't I?" Cassandra bit her lip, nodding. "I figured as much."

"Not out of shame," she said quickly. "I only...I would prefer not to explain _this_ to my brother."

"Even a queen can't get out of that one, huh?"

"Unfortunately not."

Varric chuckled, reaching down to look for his clothes. He paused. "You know, I came here to tell you I'm falling in love with you."

"And you did a fantastic job."

"So..."

"Point well made, Master Tethras." Cassandra up, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He grinned, pulling his tunic over his shoulders. 

"I do aim to please, your highness." 

"Yes." She stroked a hand through his hair. "I am glad that you do."


	7. SHOVEL talk (the bad kind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW! BAM! AMAZING! IDK.
> 
> Um, I had definitely planned on there being more angst, but the plans I had were suddenly really out of character and I just needed the rest of the story to be like GET IT TOGETHER ANTHONY because that's what needs to happen.
> 
> Honestly, I know I promised #sads but, like, I don't think I have the energy for #sads.
> 
> Oh man.
> 
> I think you're getting #fluffs.

_But I don't worry honey_  
_Let them say what they may_  
_Come on and stick with me baby_  
_We'll find a way_  
\-- The Everly Brothers, "Stick With Me Baby"

* * *

Varric waited the next morning for the regret to come. He waited past breakfast and into the early afternoon. He sat at his desk and wrote a few letters, pausing to see if he could feel it, its wicked tendrils curling in his belly like it had so many times before. Each time he tried to conjure the feeling, though, he could only see _her_ \-- Cassandra, with her fingers twisted in the sheets and his hair. Cassandra, pliant under his hands, open and willing and wanting. All of that came to him without warning, without question, without _trying_ \-- but regret did not.

Ellana came by and dropped a letter off for him while he ate in the hall. Varric looked up to thank her, but she was already walking away, lips pressed into a thin line. He wondered what had come of their talk, and fully intended to give chase, but the letter fell open in his hands, and the day slipped away.

 _Come sooner tonight. No one will stop you. We still have much to discuss._

Beneath the words, there was a line scribbled out in a desperate attempt to conceal it from him, but Varric had better eyes than she gave him credit for. He smiled when he managed to decipher it, and thoughts of chasing after Lavellan were gone -- 

_I wish I had made you stay._

 

 

 

" _Cassandra--_ "

"Hmm? Did you need something?"

"Makers _balls_ , would you just--"

"If you'd like something, Varric, then you need to say it."

Varric wrenched his eyes away from where she was lazily stroking his cock, drawing her hand along his length achingly slow. He half expected her to be doing paperwork with the other, but she was leaning sweetly on her elbow, chin resting in her hand. She was a sight. 

"Let me be inside you."

"Yes." She slid her fingers up his length, stroked once before swinging her leg over his hip. She teased herself, brushing the head of his cock against her entrance a handful of times before she took in a sharp breath, holding it as she finally, finally, _finally_ guided him inside her. She moaned as she breathed out, holding herself as Varric lay beneath her, staring up at the column of her chest, the perfect arch of her back and curve of her breasts. He stroked her hip with his thumb, nodding. "You're okay. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I--" She gasped when he moved, throwing her hands out to catch herself on his chest. "Oh, do that again, _again--_ " Varric nodded, thrusting up. For a moment the rhythm was off, but as he moved, she learned to move with him, and soon every thrust of his hips was met with a roll of her own, until they were matched perfectly. Cassandra arched forward, her head snapping back as she moaned. "How, _how--_ " She looked down at him. "You feel...how do you feel this way, how can you--"

"Look at me," Varric pleaded. She did. "Tell me."

"There is too much, I have _too much--_ " She sobbed with need, dropping her head down to the bed next to him. "Fuck me. I...I need you to fuck me." 

The words made Varric shiver. Carefully, he rolled them over, keeping his cock pressed deep inside her. The shift forced him to push into her hard, and she cried out, nails digging into his shoulder. Without thinking, he moved without abandon, every jolt of his hips sending her breasts back, pulling a groan from the bed under their weight. Cassandra came without any other encouragement, and Varric watched her dissolve, watched her become a pleaded, ragged mess of need under him -- it pushed him over the edge, and he spilled into her with a groan. _I love you, I love you, I love you,_ he wanted to say. They were still twisted together, sweat pooling between them, when Cassandra said quietly, "What?"

"Hmm?" Varric had no coherency to give her as he pulled out and rolled to his back.

"You said...what did you say?"

 _Shit._ "I--"

Cassandra sat up. "You said that you _loved_ me."

"I, uh--"

" _Varric._ I do not enjoy stuttering."

Varric almost laughed. It was easy to forget in their moments together that she was a _queen_ when she was begging for him. Her eyes steeled themselves and she was certainly a sight -- completely naked, sitting straight up in bed with her arms folded over her chest, practically interrogating him.

"I love you," he finally said. For some reason it didn't terrify him the way it had before. Had it only been a day between that feeling and the one he carried with him now? Varric sat up, reaching out to take her hand in his. "I know it doesn't make any sense. I don't know you, you don't know me--"

"Don't be foolish," she said "You have seen me at my _weakest._ How could you pretend not to know me after that?" It could have been scolding, but her tone was soft, almost caressing. She lifted his hands to her lips, kissed his palms. "I have known no one like you, in my entire life." Cassandra looked at him. "But I am...afraid."

"Of what?"

"Leaving you behind."

"Oh." Varric nodded. "Right." He threaded his fingers through hers. "We'll figure something out."

She sighed. "I am sure we will, yes." She lifted her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. "Maker, it is late." 

"I should go."

"No, you should stay."

Varric chuckled, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. "Believe me, I want to. But..." He trailed off and she nodded, understanding. He dressed slowly, watching as she went to the basin to clean herself and look for something to wear to bed. Fully clothed, Varric went to the door, undoing the lock. He turned to say goodbye, but she was suddenly there, leaning down to kiss him, filthy and opened mouth against the door. Varric moaned, reaching up to twist his fingers in her hair.

Her braid had finally come undone. He satisfied his need to touch it, wondered if she'd let him fix it some day. 

Smiling, she pulled back. "I love you, too," she said quietly. "Do not mistake my silence for discord."

Varric laughed, "Well, certainly not after _that._ "

 

 

 

Varric kept expecting someone, and he didn't really know _who_ , to accuse him of bedding the queen. Or something to that effect. A dramatic gesture in the middle of dinner the next night, maybe, or a quick threat from Lavellan. But there was nothing. Nothing came of it at all, except for the fact that Varric was falling harder and harder every moment he spent with her, and they were drawing closer and closer to the end of their time together. His brain worked in overtime -- what would he say to her? What could they _do?_

He was considering his options on his way from breakfast one morning, heading to his quarters, when he ran right into Anthony. 

"Master Tethras." 

"Ah." Varric looked at him, wondering how quickly he could hide his thoughts, if perhaps Anthony was not as clever or astute as Varric made him out to be -- 

But he knew. The man stood there in the courtyard, nug free today, apparently, and knew.

Varric had never met any of the women his own brother had taken to bed, so he imagined this was very awkward for Anthony. But if he bore any ill will toward Varric, he didn't seem to show it. Instead, he smiled and said, "Walk with me, won't you?" Varric normally would have an excuse already cooked up, but he could produce nothing, and had no other recourse but to trail after Cassandra's brother like a kicked pup, toes of his boots catching on every step they took, ascending higher above the keep, and farther from prying ears. "I haven't spoken to you in some days, Varric."

"We've all been busy."

"Yes, you perhaps more than any of us." Anthony leaned against the battlements. There were no guards up here, nothing but an abandoned room to their right, a crow to their left. Varric felt his neck grow red, and he considered saying something sharp in response. But he had nothing. Only...truths, he supposed. "I'm in love with your sister."

"I know. She told me."

"She--"

"Hardly the intimate details, but I'm aware of how you've been spending your evenings this past week." Anthony's gaze was still far off. "I know several things, in fact." He turned and Varric saw something spark. Not anger, but not something he could recognize. "Ellana was Cassandra's servant, did you know? Her favorite. She was clever and she would read aloud when Cassandra asked her to. She saved her, one night. She spotted an attempt on my sister's life that I had missed. It took me months to forgive myself, longer to forgive her. Cassandra removed her from the serving staff and brought her everywhere with us. She needed more company than I could give, I suppose." He ran a hand through his hair. "But I am old, Varric. Too old for...affections like these."

"Ellana--"

"It was not your place to advise her," Anthony said sharply. "As...remarkable, and beautiful as she is. I cannot...I _could not_ \--" He closed his eyes and breathed. "She is young, and she has so much life ahead of her."

"That's a crock of shit."

"Said the man who has stolen my sister's heart without thinking of her _future._ " Ah, now they were down to the wire. The truth of it. "Ellana's future is open, mine is not. Cassandra is _queen_ of her homeland, and you are a surface dwarf with no family. You will adventure until a sword cuts you down, and she will be left _empty._ " He turned away from Varric. "Cassandra must marry, and she must produce an heir. It is written, it must be done, or she will have to choose from the filth in our land that tries so hard to acquire her favor."

Varric grabbed Anthony's arm, forcing their eyes to meet. "What are you _saying?_ "

"I am saying that my sister cannot leave here attached to you." He pushed Varric away. "I am saying--" Anthony closed his eyes. "Andraste forgive me, I _hate_ to say it--"

" _Tell me._ "

"You must break my sister's heart. You must break it and disappear until we depart at the end of the week. You have caused enough trouble, Tethras. Your desire for her is immediate, but it has robbed her of her _sight_. She must look to the future again, and that future must continue without you." 

 

 

 

Varric found the elf crying inside his room. 

"Andraste's tits," he muttered. "Ellana, please. Not--"

"I am a fool," she said.

"Aren't we all?"

"You will not do it, will you?"

Varric frowned. "I--"

"You cannot, not to my lady, not to _Cassandra--_ " Ellana stood. "Anthony is a fool, as much as any of us. He thinks he knows what's best because he is her brother, but he would think so little of her to assume she could not be queen without--"

"Slow _down!_ " Varric went to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You need a drink." He turned and poured her a glass of whiskey, raising an eyebrow when she drained it all in one go. "Right. All done with that that." He put the glass down.

"I have chosen a foolish man to love."

"That seems to be the trend these days."

"Cassandra will hate you for it, but she will hate him even more. She will _know._ You cannot do what he's asked of you. If you do, you...you could ruin more than what you have with her." Ellana reached out, grabbing up Varric's hands in her own. "She cannot be without him. And she cannot know he's asked you to do this."

Varric considered her. "You...told him. How you felt." She nodded. "He rejected you."

"It doesn't matter."

"He turned you away and you'll _still_ defend him."

Ellana laughed, but it was hollow and angry. "That is what you do," she said. "When you love someone so deeply." She looked at Varric. "Even their faults become endearing." 

Varric sighed, squeezing her hands before letting go. "What do we do, then?"

"I'm...not sure."

"We've made a mess for ourselves, haven't we?"

She nodded. "Lovesick fools, the lot of us."

Varric stood, trying to think. He had considered Anthony's proposal, of course. It would be easy to crush the small thing he and Cassandra had so carefully constructed. It was still bright and new. But Ellana was right. Anthony, in his blind attempts to protect Cassandra's future, had overlooked something important. 

The queen of Nevarra was a warrior. She had steeled her heart against the world and Varric realized, standing at his desk, what an immensely _powerful_ thing it was for her to have handed it to him. He felt an ache that he didn't want to quell. It was warm. Painful, yes, but _good._ To love, to _be_ loved, to have it grow in you so quickly -- it had taken him by surprise, certainly, but it had awoken him.

All these years, he'd been asleep. All these years, he'd been going through the motions. Only a few people -- Hawke, the Inquisitor -- had brought him from his haze. But now, here, _Cassandra_ \-- she'd pulled him through fully, and on the other side, of course, there were a hundred things trying to push him back.

"I think," he said quietly, "that I have a plan."

Ellana straightened. "Oh?"

"Yes. But it's going to take some work."

"Most good things do." She stood, then, and joined him. The window over his desk overlooked the courtyard. He could see Maxwell walking hand in hand with Dorian, their heads bent low, eyes bright. Even from here, it could be seen. Love. Love that had bloomed impossibly in the corners of Skyhold in spite of war and archdemons and death. "What's your plan?" Ellana asked softly.

Varric smiled. "How would you feel about _one_ more dance?" 

Ellana laughed and took his hand. "I wouldn't miss it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> errrrr i apologize for the confusion about ellana if there is any  
> i guess i just wanted a character we all recognized and i always imagine that in-game, the character you don't choose to play still has their own life somewhere, so it's always fun for me to imagine that. 
> 
> YOU KNOW ME, ALL THE CANON FUCKERY
> 
> (ps you should listen to the cover of "stick with me baby" by robert plant and alison krauss. i'm a big blue grass/folk music junkie, and it's an incredibly sweet version. it came on while i was writing this and i thought _oh that's their song_ )


	8. you can dance if you want to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE ONE MORE
> 
> epilogue coming soon to a theatre near you

_"If music be the food of love, play on,_  
 _Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,_  
 _The appetite may sicken, and so die."_  
\-- William Shakespeare, _Twelfth Night_

* * *

"Our Varric," Maxwell said. "Planning a _ball_ so he can confess his feelings to a _queen._ Is this going to be in your next serial? It's quite good." A tray of canapes passed by them and he snagged one, shoving it into his mouth. Through his food he said, "Nice way to send her off, even if the romantic entanglement bit flops."

"Your confidence is stirring," Dorian said dryly. He put a hand on Varric's shoulder. "You're sure about all this, then?"

"Sparkler, I'm never _really_ sure about much of anything I do. But I'll see it through."

"That's dedication."

"Dorian, he _loves_ her. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

"You should wait until we've all had enough wine before you start waxing poetic, my dear."

Varric sighed and looked around the hall. Everything was nearly put together, and exactly the woman he wanted to see was striding toward him with her usual purpose. Josephine had been absent the last several days, and Varric had been so caught up with Cassandra and everything else that he'd hardly laid eyes on her.

"Ambassador."

"Varric." She stood with him, glancing around the hall. "You certainly do have a flare for the dramatic."

"Don't try to tell me you weren't going to do this anyway."

"Yes, well, certainly not with your... _motivations._ " She looked at the board in her hand. "Everything is in place. The musicians the Inquisitor requested arrived earlier this morning. The tables are clean, the food is ready, the--" She stopped as Cullen came in from the quartyard, tugging off his gloves.

"Queen Cassandra's carriages are ready for her departure tomorrow." He glanced at Josephine, whose expression had settled somewhere between distress and annoyance. It made her look deadly. "Ah. I'll just--"

"Yes," she said sharply. "You _just._ " Cullen flushed and rubbed the back of his neck before disappearing into the hall leading up to his office. Josephine watched him go, and Varric saw her expression immediately settle into longing. He wanted to say something, but she shook her head and said, "I should go and change. If you need anything, you know where I will be." She headed quickly to the other side of the hall, shutting the door to her own office behind her.

Varric blinked. "What--"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" Maxwell had reappeared. "They'd been getting on quite well."

"Yes, and then Cullen went and said something _stupid,_ " Dorian snapped. "Idiot. If he'd wanted to know how to wallow in self-pity with ostracizing the beautiful woman in his life, he should have just _asked._ "

 

 

 

Varric sat away from Cassandra for most of the evening. Every so often she met his gaze, her head tipped in affection, and Varric smiled. It was all he could do to keep himself from running across the hall to her, dragging her out and away. In retrospect, he thought, perhaps orchestrating a massive send-off so he could make sure she knew he would be a part of her life for as long as she'd have him was a bit gauche -- but Varric liked to see these sorts of things through to the end.

Besides, his motivations weren't singular. 

He spotted Anthony partway through the night, but the man did not look at him. He sat by Cassandra, staring into his plate, while Ellana sat perfectly still next to him. She glanced at Varric, who tried to smile confidently, but may have looked more nauseated than anything else. He certainly felt that way. How inspiring.

Eventually, Maxwell stood at the head of his table, fork ringing out against his goblet as the music died down. "Oh, don't stop playing for me, I was just trying to add a new sound to the mix." A polite rumble of laughter echoed through the hall. Dorian rolled his eyes. "My friends. What an amazing time it's been for us, since our victory. How many brilliant people have passed through this hall since Corypheus fell? And the times we've _had!_ I mean, who could forget the night that King Alistair and the Chargers--" Josephine cleared her throat loudly. "Ah, yes. So sorry. Er, anyhow." He set his glass down and gestured toward Cassandra. "My dear queen. We have all been truly blessed by your visit. You have surprised us at every turn, and I assure you, Skyhold will be a different place without you."

Varric frowned. He had written the Inquisitor a speech. This was _not_ the speech.

"I always like this part, you know. The part where the old friends and the new friends sit here, and I can't really tell the difference between the two anymore. We are so incredibly lucky to be alive, and to have one another. We have seen literal fear, and faced it. I don't think I could understand how we could ever be afraid of anything else ever again."

No, definitely not the speech Varric had written. 

"But we still are, aren't we? We've faced demons and dragons and _death_ , and yet, we fear the simplest things." He smiled. "We fear _love_ , I believe, above all others. And I think it's because love requires us to _do_ the most fearful things. It asks us to admit what we want, and we are not the sort of people who tend to _get_ what they want. It forces us to hand our hearts over to someone we perhaps hardly know, and say to them, this is yours now. Keep it."

Damn, the kid was good.

"I don't think I want to be afraid of love ever again. I am lucky to have found it." He turned and looked down at Dorian, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And I am lucky to have witnessed its growth." He turned to Cassandra again. "Varric wrote me a speech, and it was quite good, you know, but a bit dry for my tastes. He'd like to dance with you, now."

That...was not how it was supposed to go.

"And should anyone else feel inclined to follow them, the floor is yours." He picked up his wine, drained it all, and said, "To love, my friends."

"To love," they echoed.

And then the music began to play.

 

 

 

Varric danced with Cassandra for most of the night. When they didn't dance, they could be found on the stairs leading down to the courtyard, Cassandra dressed as simply as she had been the day she'd arrived, her long legs stretched out under the moonlight. Varric took her hand in his. "I can't go with you, not just yet."

"I would not expect you to."

"But I'll write."

"I would be furious if you did not."

"When I can, though...when I'm--"

Cassandra pressed her thumb gently to his lips. "Hush, my love. There's no need to make any more promises than this." She smiled. "You've done enough for me tonight."

Varric glanced behind them -- Maxwell and Dorian took up a great piece of the dance floor, but he spotted Cullen and Josephine dancing quietly in a corner, her cheek resting on his shoulder, his chin on top of her head. They made a good pair, and he would have to pry that particular story from someone else, in time. 

Still, the person he wanted to see dancing was nowhere to be found. Where had Anthony--

"Sister."

Cassandra turned, found her brother on the stairs coming up from the courtyard. "Anthony." She stood. "Are you finally enjoying yourself?"

"You know how I feel about this."

"I do. And I told you before, I do not agree."

"Then I am afraid we are at an impasse. I cannot allow this--"

"Fortunately," Cassandra said, standing. "You are not the queen. And so these sort of decisions should not trouble you. I know what you think I need, brother. I know you worry for the future--"

"It isn't so _simple_ \--"

"Yes, but it _is!_ You are so caught up in what this world will be like in twenty years, you cannot see that a good one is at your fingertips." 

"I--" He faltered, gaze falling behind Cassandra and Varric to where Ellana now stood. Varric thought she looked radiant, the light from the party behind them casting a soft glow on her features. He understood Anthony's pause. 

"She loves you," Cassandra said. "Why do you have to be such a fool?"

Ellana gasped. "Your _majesty--_ "

"Please. I cannot bear it." Cassandra reached out for her brother. He came to her, after a moment's hesitation, expression twisted in anxiety. "Would you deny her your heart? I know it is good."

The two stepped closer to one another. Anthony looked tired, Ellana even more so. They had been playing this game for far too long. "I am...old," he said quietly.

Ellana shook her head. "You are not."

"I was a man when you were a child--"

"Please, don't do this to me again." She took up his hands in her own, and Cassandra stood back. Varric felt her lace their fingers together. "I don't care about that."

"You should. What kind of future can I give you?"

"Exactly the one that I want, as long as you are in it."

"Ellana--"

She reached up, taking his face in her hands. "No more arguing. I won't allow it." She stroked his cheek. "Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Varric squeezed Cassandra's hand. "Come on," he said quietly, and she followed him back into the hall. It had emptied out as the night wore on, and they sat together at a long table, passing a bottle of wine back and forth. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I never want to leave this place."

"Skyhold?" She nodded. "It does that to you."

"I didn't imagine coming here and finding what I did."

"Those archers _did_ turn out--" She kissed him, laughing into his mouth. "Hi, I'm Varric Tethras, I use humor as a defense mechanism."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"Yes."

"I would worry if I didn't," she said quietly. "You are the one who chose to pursue a queen."

"And aren't I lucky?"

Cassandra laughed against his ear, and Varric reached up to stroke her cheek. 

"I think we both are."


	9. epilogue: or an ode to hair pins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god it's done okay here take this flimsy bit of an epilogue and hope i can get it together long enough to write a sequel

_"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."_   
\-- Kahlil Gibran

* * *

Varric,

It would seem in spite of the strange world you seem to have brought me into, reality still waits for me. I am sorry that it took so long to finally respond to you, these are the trappings that come along with being a queen, I suppose. I don't mean to be facetious, I only speak the truth. Anthony wonders if perhaps you would make a good advisor, but Ellana reminded him that it would be in poor taste to seek legal counsel and ruling advice from my lover. I suppose she is right, in a matter of propriety. But, then, I have not always cared so much for that. 

I miss you, every day. If I could exist in that last night we spent together forever, I would. The way you touched me, the way you made me feel, the way you told me you loved me. But, we must continue on. I can only put faith in the fact that it will happen again, and hopefully soon.

Yours, Cassandra

(Would you please tell that boy the nug is doing fine?)

 

 

 

Cassandra,

Hopefully no one is reading your letters, because there's another one behind this one telling you exactly all the things I'm going to do to you once we see each other again. Just a warning to them, in case they aren't interested in a detailed paragraph about how I feel about your legs. 

It's cold and lonely here without you, but it seems you left behind some seeds. How anything gets done in this place between all the kissing and other nonsense is beyond me, but we're still apparently a paragon of peace and well-being, so the noble folks keep coming. Last week we sealed up a few rifts. Maxwell was disappointed you didn't get any in Nevarra, but I'm sure we'll invent an excuse to get there soon. 

You left your hair pins on my desk. I'm desperate to see you again.

Yours, Varric

(Cole said he knew that, but appreciates the sentiment.)

 

 

 

Varric,

I don't think my legs could bend that far, but I will try it, I suppose, for your sake. 

If your Inquisitor is so eager to travel here, tell him I'm sure there are a few unsavory places I could have him visit. The countryside is littered with tombs that cause a great deal of trouble, or so I'm told. Each time I visit one, nothing of import seems to happen. 

I am cold and lonely here without you as well, though summer is apparently upon us. The seasons slip away from me. From one to the next, it is always the same, but perhaps with you here, in my life, I will know something different. 

I did not mean to leave the pins, but I should expect them returned to me. 

Yours, Cassandra

 

 

 

Cassandra,

I suppose if you're in such desperate need of hair pins I'll have to make the journey. It will be long, arduous, and I will be exhausted when I arrive. I may just collapse into your bed without knowing where I've gone. I'm sure you'll do your due diligence and remind me. 

When I'm done here, I'm coming to you. I promise you that. We will figure this out, we'll do this together. But I have to be honest with you, always, and tell you that I will need to return to Kirkwall. The city is my home, I have debts I owe to the people there, and I could never be away for too much longer. But I love you, and I'll make this work. I promise you that. 

I'll promise you everything I can, and I'll keep those promises, too. You have my word.

Yours, Varric

 

 

 

Varric,

So you promise to keep a promise. You're silly, do you know that? Men are such fools, all the time, and you especially. However did I come to love you as much as I do? Andraste preserve me, but I do. I will hold you to such promises, you know. But I will not hold you down. Do not expect that from me now, or ever. I will never ask you to choose. I will always remain yours, no matter where you go.

Anthony is too proud to thank you, so I will on his behalf. He is happier than I have seen him in years. What strange things love does to us. I miss you, again, and always, and long to hold your hand in mine. 

Ellana says hello.

Yours, Cassandra

 

 

 

Cassandra,

I am a fool, but only, perhaps, because you've made me into one. Well, more of one than I already was. Maker, I certainly always have been. 

I would never ask you to be on one side or another. Know I will choose you, always, so long as you still want to be mine. Because I am yours, completely. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I've certainly known love before, but you are greater than maybe I deserve. I love you, and I'm keeping the hair pins. I'll get you some new ones later.

Yours, Varric

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I am on tumblr at @catchbooker, but I don't use it much, I like to skype and email, so bug me if you want those. Here, not on tumblr. I suck at tumblr.


End file.
